


Fae

by Foxstress



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Death in Childbirth, Family, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, Gen, grumpy pre-teen Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxstress/pseuds/Foxstress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his mother, Thorin goes through a difficult time. It's even more difficult to everyone around him. (Possibly the first part of a small series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fae

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gaaladrieel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Gaaladrieel).



> This is a little gift to my lovely friend Gaaladrieel http://gaaladrieel.tumblr.com/ for participating in my 69 followers party. She wished for something possibly fluffy with Thorin and an original female character. I fucked it up, of course, and went to a totally inexplicable direction - but once an idea gets stuck to my head I have no choice but to write it. Cheers, sweetie.

Frieda had seen it more times than she cared to think: Dwarven mothers dying during childbirth. They were a strong, enduring race, but when bringing a new child to the world, a Dwarrowdam was at her most vulnerable. It was part of the reason there were so few of them. A lot of time, the babe died as well. But when the princess, prince Thrain’s beloved, died as she was giving birth to her third child, the babe’s cries were strong with life and ear-piercing – almost as if the child was wailing her anguish over her mother, Frieda thought, and felt her heart breaking a little as she held the tiny bundle. Prince Thrain, for a while, was so inconsolable that king Thror deemed it best to find someone to take care of the children while he mourned.

That was how Frieda, Erebor’s most-loved midwife, was hired to be the caretaker for the newborn princess Dis and her older brothers Frerin and Thorin. Frieda’s own daughter Fae was just a bit older than Frerin, and she usually took the girl with her to the royal quarters; it would not hurt for the princes to have a new playmate.

The first few months were rough. Thrain was gone most of the time, working away his sorrow in the mines. Frerin was still a little too young to fully understand his mother’s passing, and would sometimes ask where she was, a little pout grazing his face. Dis was weepy at the beginning, and there was no mother’s milk to give her, so Frieda fed her goat milk which was nutrient enough, but lacked the comfort of a mother’s milk, she thought. But Thorin – Thorin was not easy to handle. He was a quiet child, unusually melancholy for someone so young even before losing his mother, but he was easily lit into a furious anger should something hit his nerve.

“Young master Thorin, please do not raise your voice at me,” Frieda found herself saying at least once a day, when Thorin lost his temper for the most trivial reasons. He couldn’t find his book. Frieda made wrong kind of soup for dinner. Frerin laughed too loud. Dis wouldn’t go to sleep. Anything could set him off, and he scared the other dwarflings with his fits. Frieda was wise enough to know that it was the sorrow that was making Thorin act up, but as level-headed as she was, she was no angel, and did not want to put up with such behaviour.

Frieda tried, gently, to appeal to Thrain. “I don’t think your son knows how to deal with his grief properly, Your Majesty. Perhaps you could speak with him about it?”

Thrain had a faraway look in his eyes and his voice was almost devoid of any emotion. “I have tried. He says nothing to me. I do not know how to help, Lady Frieda, not right now. Please just take care of them.” Frieda knew there was no point in arguing – Thrain could barely hold himself together at the moment.

She tried to talk with Thorin herself, over and over again, but the answer was always the same: “Nothing is wrong with me and you don’t need to look after me. Please leave me alone,” followed soon by another angry tantrum. Frieda was running out of patience and energy to deal with him.

One day, Frieda was putting Dis – now two months old – down for a nap. She had left the other children by themselves in the other room, after telling Fae to come fetch her immediately, should something happen. But everything had stayed silent. More so than usually. Naturally, Frieda was a bit worried when she came out of the nursery. She tiptoed to the slightly ajar door of the room that belonged to Thorin and Frerin, where faint voices were talking. Frieda didn’t dare to enter, but peeked into the room. Frerin, it seemed, had fallen asleep on the floor, his little thumb tucked in his mouth.

Thorin and Fae were sitting on the floor beside him, cross-legged, opposite each other. Thorin looked sad; it was the first time Frieda had seen such an emotion on his face. “I don’t mean to get angry at them. Or you. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Fae said with the consoling tone of a much older Dwarf. “But you have to stop being so angry. It’s not good for you, it will make your tummy and head hurt.”

Thorin couldn’t help smiling a little bit. “It does. But sometimes it’s easier to be angry.”

“Easier than what?” Fae pushed on.

“…Easier than being sad,” Thorin said very quietly. Then he cleared his throat and said with a bit stronger voice: “I’m going to be the King someday, Fae. I can’t be sad.”

They were quiet for a moment. Fae watched Thorin intently and then said with great determination: “A King has to do things that are hard. It might be harder for you to be sad than angry, but it’s the right thing.” Thorin was looking at the floor and blinking a lot. “You can be sad when you’re with me, Thorin. I won’t tell anyone,” Fae promised.

Thorin looked at the serious girl before him. His eyes were glistening. “It’s not fair,” he whispered. “She shouldn’t have died.”

Fae scooted over to him and put her little arms around him in a whole-hearted hug. Thorin broke down instantly, hugged her back and just sobbed quietly, taking pained, shallow breaths that eventually started to subside. Frieda turned away and went to the kitchen, where she sat down and just stared at the cooking fire for a long time, and the rooms stayed quiet. There might have been a tear running down her face at some point, but she was wearing a proud smile.

After that day, Thorin only ever yelled at his siblings when they were old enough to start playing merciless pranks at him.

**Author's Note:**

> This has a few similar elements to my Mother's Heart -story, so if you like this, maybe check that one out as well, but don't worry about its sad afternote too much - it's been six months since I wrote it, and time heals, eventually. (Although I just now realize what this story is actually about, so I guess my subconscious is still working stuff out, but that's okay.)


End file.
